Tidings of Comfort and Joy
by Fire Dancer1
Summary: Some Christmas cheer for all you HM fans out there.


Title: Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Author: Kate/Fire Dancer

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I asked for Hawkeye for Christmas.

Author's Note: This is for my lovely reviewers and for the wonderful H/M writers over at BCA. Thanks for finding my muse for me. Merry Christmas!

~*~

Frostbite. There were things he hated more in life, but at the moment Hawkeye couldn't think of one of them. He'd just amputated his seventh toe of the evening (and that wasn't counting the four fingers, two from a kid who couldn't have been a day over 18 and cried because he'd been a concert pianist), and tomorrow promised to bring more of the same. He threw his used gloves angrily into the trash bin. "How fair is it, Beej?" He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his heavy coat, stomping his feet in hopes of regaining circulation. "These kids, they escaped all the land mines in Korea. None of them got hit by a sniper. They're home free, and we have to relieve them of appendages anyway."

"What about this entire deal is fair, Hawk?" BJ countered tiredly. He clapped a palm on his friend's shoulder. "I'm spent. Looks like things here are quieting down now; I'm going to catch a nap before our friends decide to break the Christmas ceasefire."

It took a while for BJ's comment to register with Hawkeye. "Christmas," he mumbled, then stood up a bit straighter. "Aw, Beej, I didn't even get you anything."

The other doctor chuckled. "Don't worry, Hawkeye, it's only Christmas Eve. One whole shopping day left."

"Well, if you're looking for gift ideas for me, just leave…" Hawkeye began.

"I know. Just leave her on your cot and get lost for a few hours, is that it?"

Hawkeye pulled his hat lower over his ears. "Ah Beej, you read my mind. I'll make a dishonest man of you yet."

"I wouldn't bet on it," his friend smiled, a far-off look coming to his eyes. "I have a package from Peg…I was about to open it when the ambulances started coming."

"Don't let me keep you from the wife, Mr. Innocent," Hawkeye joked, patting BJ on the back. "You go enjoy your Christmas from home, and I'm going to go enjoy a Christmas martini." He watched wistfully as the other man pulled his coat tightly around him and headed through the blowing snow towards the Swamp.

~*~

The Officer's Club was nearly deserted when Hawkeye entered, stomping snow off his boots and blowing into his cupped hands for warmth. He took the stool closest to the door. "Give me the driest martini you've ever made. Conjure the Sahara, if possible." He gingerly rested his forehead on the bar, sighing wearily.

"Captain Pierce?"

Hawkeye rolled his head to the side so he could look to the left. "Major Houlihan," he returned. "Don't you think, Major, this being Christmas Eve, that first names would be acceptable?"

The major raised an eyebrow. "Are you getting fresh with me, Captain?"

He sat up straighter, spreading his arms in an innocent gesture. "No, no, no," he backpedaled, taking a sip of his martini. "I'm merely requesting that you call me by my first name."

"All right…Benjamin," she agreed reluctantly, "and you may call me Margaret."

He wrinkled his nose. "It's Hawkeye. And thank you, Margaret."

Margaret smiled, seeming to become more comfortable. She left her stool for the one closest to Hawkeye. "Hawkeye it is, then."

"Thank you," he repeated, relaxing. It wasn't that they had never called each other by their first names; he just always considered it a small victory whenever the normally straight-laced major loosened up a bit. "So, Margaret, what brings you here on this horridly frigid Christmas Eve?"

She indicated her own martini glass. "Christmas cheer, of course."

"Of course," he agreed wryly. Lifting his glass, he stood. "I would like to propose a toast," he announced.

"Oh?" Margaret followed suit, lifting her glass and sliding off her bar stool.

Hawkeye nodded. "A toast, Margaret. To you. And me. And Christmas cheer."

"I'll drink to that," they heard mumbled from behind them. Both looked to see an either very drunk or very sleepy corporal lying his head back down on a corner table. Margaret grinned. "And so will I." She clinked her glass against Hawkeye's just as a gust of wind blew open the door of the OC, letting in cold air and snow.

"Perhaps we should also drink to warmer weather." Hawkeye shivered as he spoke. "You wanna get out of here?" He crossed the room to close the door.

Margaret placed her glass on the counter, rubbing her arms. "I really should get to bed. The Christmas ceasefire won't last forever."

"You and Beej sure are the optimists," Hawkeye muttered sarcastically, mostly to himself. "All right. At least let me walk you home." He winked cheekily. "Don't want you getting lost in the blizzard."

She rolled her eyes. "Ever the gentleman. Just don't be getting any funny ideas, Hawkeye."

"Who, me?" Again the innocent grin as he took her arm, leading her outside. "I'm just walking you home, Margaret."

~*~

As soon as they hit the cold wind outside, Margaret involuntarily stepped closer to him. Hawkeye took the opportunity to wrap his arm around her shoulder (for warmth, of course), pulling her even closer. The two arrived at the head nurse's tent and Hawkeye held the door open and hesitated. Margaret ducked inside and turned towards him. "Don't let all the cold air in!" she snapped, a bit more forcefully than she had intended.

Stepping fully into Margaret's tent, he closed the door behind him with his foot. "It's not very warm in here," he stated the obvious. "Want me to light your heater?" He bent towards the stove, locating a box of matches on the table beside her cot.

"I am perfectly capable…" Margaret began, trailing off as the glow and warmth from the fire began to seep through the tent. "Thank you," she said softly, almost ashamed. And then louder, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get ready for bed."

"What are you going to do, take off your shoes?" He demonstrated by taking his own off, then laying down on her cot. "It's so cold, this would be a sleeping in my clothes kind of night for me." He pulled back her blankets, crawling under the sheets.

She stared. "You…you…" she sputtered, too aghast to form a sentence. Finally. "I told you, no funny ideas!" She tugged on his hand, trying to pull him off of her cot.

"This isn't a funny idea," Hawkeye protested, tugging her hand back. "It's actually a very good idea. I let you share my body heat, you let me share yours. A fair trade, and we're both much warmer when morning comes." He squeezed her hand gently, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "My intentions are purely pure, Major."

To Margaret's dismay, she found herself blushing. She let him pull her to a sitting position on her cot. And she sat. And there she was, and there he was. His gentle hand, his blue eyes, his dark hair, his lips…oh no, not his lips. She blushed again, surprised at how quickly and how involuntarily she'd warmed up to the idea of Hawkeye Pierce in her bed. She shook herself away from those thoughts, focusing on taking off her boots. She spent too much time placing them just so beside the cot and it was only when her stocking feet started getting cold that she slid under the covers with him.

It was awkward and cramped for two on the small cot, both of them wearing winter clothing. They shifted around and around, trying to find a comfortable position. Finally, by mutual, silent agreement, they settled on being face to face, arms around each other (purely by necessity, they both told themselves).

"It is…warmer," Margaret admitted in a whisper, shifting her head a bit closer to his.

"Your nose still looks cold," Hawkeye countered, and he shifted his head the rest of the way and kissed her nose gently.

Margaret tightened her grip on Hawkeye. "That didn't help much," she said, her voice trembling a bit, "Your lips are cold, too." She raised an eyebrow and then dipped her chin, kissing him full on the mouth. She felt him respond almost immediately and together they warmed their lips against each other's.

They broke apart for air, both breathing heavily. "Did what I think just happened really happen?" Hawkeye murmured, almost disbelieving.

She couldn't look at him. "I…I think so. Yes." A surprising giggle escaped her lips and she looked up to see him grinning broadly.

Hawkeye lifted a finger to brush some stray hair from her eyes. "I'm glad," he smiled. They lay in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth of each other. After several moments, Hawkeye looked back at Margaret, his eyes sparkling. "You know," he said slyly, "when I said I would sleep in my clothes tonight, I was envisioning being alone in my cot." He winked at Margaret's wary expression before continuing. "Now that there's two of us, we would certainly be warmer without the clothes. Skin on skin is a sure-fire warming technique. Proven, even." He grinned, pleased with himself.

Margaret hit him lightly on the chest. "Don't press your luck, Pierce. I think you're warm enough already." She chuckled softly, surprised that his suggestion hadn't galled her as much as she might have thought it would.

He pulled her closer so that her head rested on his chest. "Sure, Margaret," he agreed amicably, kissing the top of her head. "But if you happen to change your mind…"

"Hawkeye…" Margaret's warning tone was belied by her arms, which tightened around the man as she drifted into sleep.

~*~

The next morning dawned bright and even colder than the previous, but the couple inside the head nurse's tent was oblivious to the weather. Hawkeye awakened first, feeling more rested than he had in a long time. He smiled down at the woman snuggled against his chest and gently kissed her forehead. "Merry Christmas, Margaret."

She stirred, groaning slightly before her eyelids fluttered open. "Hawkeye," she managed, still half asleep. "Merry Christmas." She smiled as the events of the previous night came back to her. "Are you warm?"

Hawkeye grinned. "I think my lips are still a bit cold."


End file.
